


Every Planet Above, and Every Star

by spacego



Category: Alexander (2004)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Bucephalus is the family butler, Dom/sub, Domesticity, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy References, M/M, a spacefaring nation, blink-and-you-miss-it plot, borrowing characters, porn with a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7776643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacego/pseuds/spacego
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a Space Soap Opera, now with more Vogons, chains, and purple prose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Planet Above, and Every Star

**Author's Note:**

> warning: not beta-ed, written on the fly, possibly inaccurate description of items, feelings, usage, circumstances, just about everything.

Love made me such that I live in fire  
like a new salamander on earth  
or like that other rare creature, the Phoenix,  
who expires and rises at the same time.

 --Rime 208, Gaspara Stampa

* * *

 

 

When Alexander finally looked up from the last of a seemingly endless chain of reports, the lateness of the hour astonished him. He thought it would still be late afternoon, or at least sundown, when in fact the first moon had risen quite high above the night's horizon. And the second moon was already ascending. Full moons tonight, he observed, so perhaps that was why he thought it would still be dying daylight out. He thought to watch the slow rising of the second moon, but found himself a little bit impatient after a few moments. Perhaps this was how the lycanthropes found their legends, he thought, as he was suddenly made aware of restless blood that rushed through his veins, singing in his ears and his head. He turned around sharply from the window and rushed out of his office, barely waiting for the door to slide open wide enough for him.  
  
He barely noticed how dim the corridor headlights were, and barely recognized that everyone on this floor had gone home. The echoes of his footsteps bounced off glass, marble and steel, and how he barely waited for the far door to slide completely open before he stepped inside the warm sanctuary. It opened to a smaller room than his, a windowless room with barely enough furniture to be both professional and polite. He sighed inwardly, remembering all the fights and subterfuge he had done in the past to move this office to a larger one, an airier one, one as large and magnificent as his. He remembered having lost each one of those arguments.  
  
His eyes fell on a beloved vision, oddly lit by harsh overhead light and faint grey light from the monitor in front of him. The man seemed oblivious, lounging back in his chair in a way that indicated that he was not looking at some work-related thing. Eyes trained at the workstation monitor, eyebrows crinkling half in concentration and half in amusement. There was no sound. Must be one of those silent films from Ancient Earth that Hephaistion was so enamored with.   
  
The door behind him slid shut with a nigh inaudible snick but broke the other man's concentration nevertheless.  
  
The atmosphere shifted abruptly. "Alexander!"  
  
"Phai," he replied, watching as his partner palmed something on the table that switched off the monitor within the second.  
  
"You're done?" Hephaistion asked, rising up to his feet.  
  
"Yes," he said, taking a step forward into the room, noticing the new marble made his footsteps echo loudly in the relative quiet of the building. "What were you watching?" Because he was sure that Hephaistion wasn't working.  
  
"A film I got from the Librarian," Hephaistion replied, sweeping papers into one neat pile on the corner of the table. He would need to resort them when he returned to the office next. The pile wasn't tall, it would be no hard feat, he thought.  
  
"Was it terribly interesting?"   
  
"It depends, I suppose. I've only just started watching it. Before you came in, I mean. No one's died yet, even. Will you watch it with me some time?"  
  
He wanted to offer some words to perhaps show his interest, to ask what the film was called, or what it was supposed to be about where people had to die. But he found he would rather watch the other man go about shutting the office down for the weekend, coming in and out of his office to take or distribute notes he had just remembered making, striding across thresholds with those long legs of his. So with the next slide of the door as Hephaistion strode in and stuffed some papers into a briefcase, Alexander offered a short "Maybe."

They left side by side, in companionable silence, footsteps echoing as one, like the last march before dawn. The elevator took them down. They stood side by side, smiling at each other from their reflection on polished chrome doors. 

* * *

 

Their car was already waiting when they reached street level, the door to the back of it was already open, letting out puffs of warmth out into the stiff cold night. Hephaistion drew his coat tighter around him, realizing how cold it had become; perhaps snow could be expected within another week or so. 

He watched as Alexander palmed some money off to a doorman, who disappeared with a sharp nod of Alexander's fair hair. He stood where he was as Alexander threw his briefcase blindly into the car. Hephaistion allowed himself to admire his beloved's arse as he climbed in, and was momentarily at a loss when a hand pried his briefcase off his own senseless fingers.

"Come inside before you freeze," Alexander said with laughter in his voice, pushing the door wider. The interior of the car was dark but Hephaistion could see the twinkle in his eyes.

He shook his head a little and climbed into the car, pulled the car door behind him. No sooner did the door close, that the car rose and sped down the preprogrammed course. They rarely had any use of a driver's service now, prefering to take the ride on autopilot so they could spend whatever scant time alone, just the two of them together in one enclosed space.

He slid across the leather seat to nestle next to Alexander who was up in the far corner of the car, putting in some safecodes and coordinates for the car to follow.  

"I've missed you. I think we'll take the long way around today," Alexander said, still intent on typing in commands. His words were measured, as if testing the verity of them, but there's also a wealth of promises and expectations lying beneath them, close to the surface. Hephaistion shivered and not from the cold. If he had sharper ears, he would hear the same bolt of desire coursing through Alexander's veins.

Then abruptly the typing stopped and Alexander's fair head snapped up in that way he did when he though he had forgotten something important. Hephaistion caught Alexander's gaze, and found a little uncertainty there in the downward slope of those beloved brows. But mostly there's a plea that Hephaistion would acquiesce to the night ahead. 

It was rather endearing to Hephaistion the notion of how plainly desire could be telegraphed in relative darkness, or perhaps how easy he could read his beloved's heart. How odd that after all these years Alexander might feel that Hephaistion might say no. 

So, perhaps it was the heat of the car, or perhaps it was the insatiable hunger pooling in his belly, but he was always so powerless under Alexander's gaze, never able to deny his beloved anything.

One day, it would drive him to his ruin, he was sure. But this day, it drove him to his knees.

In place of words, he instead slid down to a space on the generously carpeted floor next to Alexander feet; far enough as not to touch, but close enough that his lover's warmth still embraced him. 

He looked up to see Alexander watching him raptly, and thought he saw a flicker relief and gratitude crossing that handsome face. But just as quickly, Alexander turned his concentration back to the keypad and to his typing. It really was just a brief flicker and he's beginning to think that he might had just been imagining it, perhaps a trick of light from the streetlamps beyond.

He rocked back to his heels and cast his eyes down, as he knew was now expected of him in his position. Now, to wait. He wasn't always the most patient person in the world, but for Alexander, he thought, he could try to be.

The silence of the car was not completely so. Beneath Alexander's staccato typing and rumblings of the car's engine, there's a constant high pitched ringing in his ears, and the persistent rush of blood. There were faint sounds of nighttime traffic beyond, even loud yells from street urchins and drunken homeless souls. He wished Alexander would say something to him, words that would cut through this strange brand of silence.

* * *

 

The typing had stopped a while ago, he had even heard the mechanical whir that sent the keypad back inside the armrest. But nothing much happened. Only the occasional rustling of clothing against leather, perhaps as Alexander settled himself more comfortably in his seat. He could imagine Alexander watching the city passing by outside. Watched the traffic and the people walking past. He's always been so enamored by the lights, by the sheer vibrancy of life in the city. He would never do well in a quiet hamlet with no souls in sight.

Hephaistion didn't dare to take a peek even a little, though he did lean back a bit more on his heels as he found an interesting pattern on the carpeting to the left of his left knee. It was far enough away to still be in his field of vision without moving his head, close enough that it was still in focus. A rabbit of some sort, or perhaps a very fat tune fork. Would a fat fork work to tell a tune, he wondered.

His musing was cut short when he heard a sharp rustle, then felt a gentle hand placed on the side of his face. "Are you sure?" came the question, low and inquisitive. 

"If you think I've been knelt down here for nothing, then you'll have to think again," he huffed.

He would've huffed louder when Alexander let out a throaty chuckle, but instead he turned his head just so and kissed his beloved's palm. 

Fingers traced a path along his brows, nose, cheekbones, lips, collarbone, slowly and reverently, sliding to the back of his head, guiding him gently forward.

He was slightly astonished that he had been so deep in his own musing before and in his own indulgence of Alexander's touch now that he never heard the telltale scratch of a zipper of Alexander freeing himself.

"Then if you are sure... don't spill a drop, dear heart. What a waste of an expensive suit it'd be. It's new, isn't it?"

Fingers guided his path, danced along his neck and on his scalp. He hummed his assent for that was the only thing he could do.

* * *

 

They shared a kiss, a deep soul-searing one. Alexander tasted his own ardor on his lover's tongue, though he recognized his beloved's taste beneath it all, strong and deceptively complex, yet uncomplicated in its identity and utterly unmistakable.

Though they sometimes entertained hubris and fancied themselves invincible at times, they reluctantly parted for air. He managed to swallow his frustration though Hephaistion whimper sounded a bit like a protest.

"Kneel back," Alexander said softly, even as he leaned forward, one arm outstretched to reach the compartment built into the partition wall between the passenger seats and the driver's bay. Hephaistion had to shift his head a little bit so that the compartment door wouldn't smack him in the face as it opened.

"No peeking," Alexander chided, as he retrieved a black velvet bag from within, two small boxes balanced on top of it. He hummed his approval when Hephaistion turned his gaze away and downward. The compartment closed automatically once he pulled his hand back. He stole another kiss before drawing back again. 

"Are you really sure?"

"Ask me again and I will break your hand right here." 

Alexander could not see his lover's eyes clearly but he imagined Hephaistion's eyes to flash with impatience, perhaps a knit of eyebrows he would've kissed in another occasion.

His apology was drowned by his own bark of laughter, then a circumspect silence from both of them.

"In that case, I will need you to be quiet now," he leaned back into his seat, as he pulled the bag open by its strings. He stretched his legs to either side of Hephaistion's legs. "Any last words?"

"No," came the reply, drawn into a long two-syllable answer as his breath hitched and quavered.

Alexander heard fondness in that answer. Their banter comfortable as they were rote, a welcome routine that they always did to ease them back into the roles. Almost the same words, said with almost the same lust-laced affection. 

This was part of a life they had cast aside quite a while ago, not so very long that seasons would have passed, but perhaps a week ago when a crisis swept through the company. Or perhaps it was two weeks ago. 

However many weeks, it was long enough for them to begin to worry whether they'd grown complacent or indifferent. But now he realized, that he needn't have worried. It was like settling into an old sweater or an old shoe. Speaking of which... He ran the tip of his left shoe along Hephaistion's fabric-covered arse, purposefully avoiding acknowledging the bulge straining against Hepaistion's trousers. "No, what?" A challenge.

"No, Master." An indulgent smile.

Alexander's gaze hardened.

Hephaistion bowed his head, his gaze sought that illusion of a rabbit on the carpeting.

Their life had finally begun, again.

* * *

 

His Master's hand came into his field of vision, then he felt warmth against the dip of his collarbone, then a short distance down to the neat loop of his tie. The liquid sound of his tie being pulled and discarded, the feel of fabric sliding off from around his neck, held so much promise that he unwittingly held his breath. Then, fingers on the topmost button of his shirt. He counted in his heart--one button, two three four, five six seven, like a child learning his numbers, breathing in and out among counts--not daring to lift his eyes off that little spot on the carpeting that had somehow caught his attention. Soon, he felt cool air against his bare chest and then the warmth of his Master's palm splayed on the center of his chest.

He didn't know why he waited, but he should've known that no words would be offered. Only fingernail against the ring fastened around his right nipple.

He held his breath as one chain was attached to it, then released it after its twin was put on the left. It was new, he noticed, not recognizing the little jeweled weights pulling down. He kept quiet despite the discomfort of the chain's unfamiliar swaying patterns, marvelling at how it caught and refracted light. A few more moments of fiddling to thread delicate chains into the ring on his belly button. It was long enough for him to maintain his perfect posture, but short enough that he could not arch his back so much without them pulling.

Clever fingers played with the weights and rings, knowledgeable in their movements as to which angles would affect him most. This man knew him like nobody else did.

But he knew him well too, could read the unspoken words and desires telegraphed with each touch, flick, and caress. So craned his neck, just a little to close small gap between them, as his Master leaned forward to slide both his suit jacket and his shirt off his shoulders and back.

* * *

 

He could see the crown of his Master's head as the man leaned to release the buckle of his belt, then to fiddle with the discreet crisscross corset like ties that held his pants together. It an odd piece of clothing that had just returned to fashion around here, and Hephaistion had quickly took to it. Alexander had shunned it for himself, but adored it on Hephaistion.  

Insistent fingers pressed on bare waist, nudging him to lean forward, and he did, pressing one cheek on Alexander's wool-covered shoulders. His pants and undergarments went down and off behind him, one leg lifting at a time, a graze of a buckle against the outside of his right thigh as it moved. A dull thump of clothing, and his Master's skilful hands telegraphed affection along his back. He inhaled his Master's scent, through wool and cotton, and reassuring warmth. 

Something was pressed against his anus, cold and unfamiliar. It could be another new thing that the other man had picked up somewhere. It was already humming and vibrating, a bit out of sync with the car's rumbling beneath them. It was long and thin, the perfect length to reach his prostate but not enough of a girth to slake his desires.

He was pushed back, so he rested on the soles of his feet, then a soft touch to his right knee and he knew how he were to spread them. He put his arms back, fingers of each hand around each ankle, leveraging him so as not to topple with each turn of the car, chains and rings swinging and pulling as he moved and quivered.

The car's algorithms were usually dependable, but this time it turned the corner a little to quick and the whole thing shuffled a bit. It thudded over the curb to the street, hard enough to push the toy deeper inside him. He surged up only to have his Master steadying him by his upper arms, keeping him where he was.

Soon, it smoothed out again. He fought for his equilibrium following the even shadows cast by streetlamps into the car. Then they grew more sporadic, giving way to densely packed trees, and quiet streets. 

It was then that the blindfold came, a quiet contemplative darkness descended upon him. He heard the telltale rustling of his Master settling himself back in his seat. He imagined his Master watching him intently with those unerring eyes of his. 

 

* * *

 

 

He didn't know how much time had passed, but his slowly simmering ardour was beginning to overflow now. His movements had become as erratic as his breathing, as he struggled to contain the fire in his belly. He was trying to concentrate so hard to put his mind into order, that he almost missed the touch. But when he realized it, that touch almost drove him off the edge.  

And yet, as soon as he thought he would fall into the abyss, he was snatched from the edge by a cold thin rod being pushed down his urethra.

One caress down his shaft, another one going up, slowly and painfully.

Then an indulgent caress along his cheekbones.

A warning.

It would be a long time before he would be able to come.

A ghost of a kiss on his forehead.

A reminder.

He sighed.

* * *

 

Busy as he was in keeping himself at bay, he hadn't paid attention to the car's trajectory, and he could not judge where they were on the road without his eyes. But a few moments later, like some homing beacon, he knew that the car had made last turn toward the house. 

His guess was proven correct as cool leather was pressed against the base of his neck. The collar would always come on last during their trip home, as it would come off last on their trip out. It was the final article to mark the shift from their public life to their personal one and vice versa. 

Fingers, leather, and then nothing. 

Nothing left now, but to wait.

* * *

 

The hum of silence around him changed. Now, a more uniform quiet, and the car's engine slowing down. His breath heavy and loud to his ears, a counterpoint to his Master's measured ones. 

A snick, and he felt outside air rushing into the car. Then, he could smell the scent of car oil, engine vapor, and basements. He did not move, knowing that he had to wait, willing himself to be patient, just listening to the things that were around him. The sound of two briefcases being slid off leather seats, fabric and shoes and sounds of other things that were drowned out by the hum of the basement's air circulation system.

The long awaited caress down his back came, and a minute brush along the small of his back was his signal. He went onto his palms and knees. Just then he felt small tension to the front of his collar, a familiar snick and an equally familiar weight settled about him as his Master fastened the leash on the ring of his collar. "Two full steps, then, the edge of the car." Left hand, right hand, right knee, left knee, repeat, then the metallic edge of the car, then a drop to the ground, and his palm found the familiar concrete of their basement parking lot. In the distance he heard the metal garage door of the basement closing down. The faint sounds of the world outside cut off with a final mechanical whine.

"Four steps then a left, another four then heel." They had parked in the spot nearest to the elevator, he realized. And those were unnecessary instructions, as he had remembered the way so well that he could walk, or crawl the length of it even if he was truly blind and half-dead. But he welcomed those words nonetheless, and the beloved voice that spoke them.

He remembered there being a rough patch in front of the elevator, something made by falling masonry some time ago that cracked the concrete where it landed, and that it was never repaired. He soon felt it under his finger, and halted his movements. He rocked himself to his knees, and waited patiently next to him, the outside of one knee brushing against the sole of his shoe.

The elevator door opened not long after they arrived, he could feel the rush of cold air raising goosebumps across his skin. It must look a sight as he heard Alexander chuckle. He felt a tug on his collar but heard no instructions. He followed Alexander's warmth into the box and sank into the carpet placed on the floor of the elevator. 

He remembered complaining about the previous marble flooring, always cold and never any time to get warm in the short travel up to Alexander's penthouse. He had felt the carpet on his knees for many times now, but the pleasure of it never stopped catching him unawares. He sighed blissfully, and heard another chuckle. He knew Alexander would be watching their reflection on the elevator's polished door. His reflection. He straightened his back, spine curving, his chains and rings pulling a little like a dirty promise. He let his thighs fall open just a little, and knew that Alexander liked what he saw when he felt fingers in his hair. 

* * *

 

It was late when Alexander woke up again. It took him awhile to come to wakefulness and sort out dreams from reality. He lay on his back and replayed the night and the thinga that happened in the previous hours in his head, centering his own private world on its axis again. He realized then that the bed empty, noticed the loop of leather lying gently across his wrist.

  
His eyes followed the loop, the chain attached to the loop that led off the bed and across the short distance of the floor to the low table where his beloved was kneeling, back to him. The mirror wall in front of the table revealed him to be deep in thought, hand hovering over keyboards, mouth forming silent words as he read words off a screen that cast a bluish tinge across the reader in front of it. Alexander shifted to lie on his side, arm propping his head, marveling at the sight on the mirror in front of him, the collar across Phae's neck, the glistening rings across his body, the pearl on the penile plug, and the chains that connect them all.

Phae lifted his head and looked at him from the mirror. He smiled and the smile was returned. A radiant smile, the one that inspired his private nickname. Phaeton, the son of Apollo. But for some reason he never dared ask, Hephaistion never liked the nickname, so he only called him thus in his heart. 

"You may speak now, if you like. I will allow it."

He was rewarded with another smile, followed closely by a frown. Fingers across keyboards and then the blue wash of the screen dimmed, plunging the room into relative darkness once more. Even in the shadows, he could see him thinking of what to say, surely there were many things to say after a few hours of enforced silence.

"I do not know what else to give to Prostetnic Jeltz without putting the company into a disadvantage," he said finally, in a way like you would discuss the weather. The words could've been benign, but he it was the only thing that could calm him, take his mind a little away from what was suddenly being made painfully aware: his unspent desire now relentlessly making itself known, demanding to be the only thing that should matter, wanting to be freed, now that permission had been given.

"There are still a few more days before Monday," he teased.

"I need to find the answer before we depart tomorrow, I have hope to give you undivided attention throughout," he replied, as he watched the other man from the mirror, trying to keep his body in line. And he knew that the other man realized the truth in his words, and the clear advantage of such a prospect. Those burning eyes taunted him and all his efforts at control was soon laid waste.

"Then, perhaps once you've cleared your head..." he said, demanding and enticing. He slid across the bed, swung his leg so he sat on its edge. He untangled the leash's loop from around his wrist and dropped it to the ground, and suddenly he felt magnanimous.

"Would you like to come? I will allow it," Alexander surprised himself.

Phae's eyes widen in equal surprise and he watched as his body turned pink then red with a blush of desire. He wold never say it out loud but there's an absurdly endearing look of astonishment greeting his unexpected benevolence.

 

* * *

An outstretched hand, an invitation.

Hephaestion felt overcame by passion, and he thought that it would be best for him to fully succumb to it. So, he clambered onto his feet as though a desperate man. He managed to stop himself within an arm's length, a hair's breadth away from his fingertips, and to the end of his days he wouldn't be able to explain why.

"Put your back to me, eyes front, I want you to watch as you give yourself to me."

* * *

 

"We leave for Vogsphere tomorrow, then a day's journey, and a meeting with Jeltz on Monday, then aim to be back at the office by Wednesday. Four full days with you. I have missed it. I have missed this." 

Alexander had pulled the penile plug out just in the time for both of them to come together, though Phae had spent more than he did, for he had to catch up to Alexander's expenditures over the previous several hours. Phae, never one for easy defeat, seemed to match him with that one mighty heave, a display of strength and suppleness that never failed to take his breath away. 

Then he had tilted Phae off his lap, bent him in two so that his arse pointed upward and would keep what Alexander had spent inside him. He has slid in an small vibrator followed by a butt plug to keep everything in.  

The penile plug had followed and he had laid Phae down on the rug in front of the fireplace. He had lain next to him, running his fingers on heated skin, tugging chains and twisting nipples, even running his fingernails along over sensitized shaft.

They spoke in soft voices about the coming conference with the Vogons, of how to perhaps avoid listening to Vogon poetry--they had evaded a reading the first three times, he wondered whether they're pushing their luck for a fourth escape. 

That was an hour ago, perhaps less, perhaps more. Phae  was now writhing on his back, glistening with sweat from the heat of the fireplace and his own exertion. Purple cock standing like a proud sentry. Pink, passion-plumped lips parted as he filled the room with the most fetching moans and songs of passion. 

* * *

 

 

Four full days, he faintly heard his Master said. He almost missed the soft pronouncements, half blinded and half deafened by the intensity of his need. 

It's true that they had been too busy, it had been a while since they had tested his limits and he had a sinking feeling that he might have regressed. Outside of their room they had to be careful.

But with the Vogons everything was different. On Vogsphere, he was more than just his Master's Factor, and more than just someone who sat on his Master's feet. They learned that the Vogons were a great stickler of "everything in its proper place".

It had been disconcerting to strip in front of everyone, to have his Master and Buce both 'dress' him down to be placed at his Master's feet in only his chains, metals, and leathers, to be arguing the finer point of a contract with Jeltz and his delegates in such a way, while Buce had hovered in the background in a place befitting his status as Alexander's Assistant and Head of Security.

The first hour had been stilted because Jeltz's son, who had been there to learn his father's trade at the proper age of 17 Voge years, kept tripping on his words and could not tear his eyes away from his groin. The son was dismissed by second hour, and things began to look up. He defended his offers, points and counterpoints in the third and fourth hours, as befitting his Master's chosen Factor.

Lunch came on the fifth hour exactly. While everyone nibbled on fruit, cheeses, and dry-as-dust crackers, he had been given the permission, nay even the order, to come silently and numerously, as a demonstration of goodwill from his Master, and a real proof of how humanoids could indeed be trusted to obey. And obey he did, every single word.

Once the half-hour break was up, his arse had picked up a vibrating hitch hiker and his Master picked up the negotiations, giving credit to him whenever they came across a point he had conceived, vetoing some of his initial decisions in others. Five minutes before the hour was up, the Vogons finally made agreeable noises, apparently satisfied that they had demonstrated their adequate intellect and acceptable ability in following the letters of law. Perhaps they could be trusted to fulfil all the terms of the contract without fail, Jeltz finally said.

The contract was finally signed on the sixth hour with his Master's fingers in his hair soothing his tremors. He was made to rest on the seventh, when he ate his late lunch together with Buce in the small nook off to one side. On the eighth hour, just as the working day was about to close on Vogsphere, his Master had dressed him, gently draping his shirt over his chains and leathers, chastely buttoning everything up and straightened his suit for him and tied his shoes for him. Sticky and smelly and blushing underneath it all, he had been sent to collect their copy of the contract and minutes of meeting from the service counter on the seventh floor.

Those records had been made in painstaking detail, across several pages that was later filed, like everything else, deep in some Vogon filing cabinet. With any other races or groups or entities, the both of them would be worried about data leaks and blackmail from ultra conservatives, but here, in Vogsphere, it was safe, guarded from outside scrutiny and destructive gossip, because no one had ever dared to try to dig up anything from a Vogon's cabinet. Perhaps one day, a race more bureaucratic than the Vogons and more gossipy than the Harpies would unearth those documents. Perhaps one day, they would be accepted for who they were, him for who he was. But that day wouldn't be any time soon.

They were homeward-bound by the ninth hour, bound being the correct word to describe how he had spent most of that two-day journey back. His Master had read the minutes out loud to him then vowing that he would save it for the lonely nights when his Factor would be away on company business.

* * *

 

Thinking about his first taste of Vogon-specific bureaucracy sent him skittering across an edge that he hadn't been on for a long time, and its alluring foreignness threatened to send him tumbling toward the abyss once more. 

His Master must've known what he was thinking, since it was him who brought up the Vogons in the first place. 

A cool hand brushed along his brow and onto his scalp, rhythmically and soothing. "Come down, no, come down here. Breathe," soft words to cool the flames running through is veins. "Ride it out," an encouragement. 

"I tried! I can't... I don't..."

"You can, you will," his Master's voice was like steel, strong, cool and unwavering. But there's a fever that had gripped him and his body, and there's no way he wouldn't tumble down into the abyss. 

"I... please, Master... I can't..."

There was a long stretch of quiet, with only his heavy breathing and fire crackling to the side. He was not blindfolded but he might as well be. His nerves was electrified, and he couldn't even know whether he had his eyes opened or close. He could not hear what his Master was doing, or where, whether he had been abandoned or if his Master was near. 

"Five more minutes," those words finally came after what seemed like a long time, gentle hand on one cheek, coaxing his head to turn. The fire was behind him, and the other side of the room was darker with dancing shadows. The hand on his cheek guided him further, fingers over his eyelids encouraging them to open. 

He saw something like an alarm clock, for he seemed to recognize the blurry red lights from it, but he could not be sure.

"Here, I'll set it for you," his Master said, and Hephaistion tried to focus on the numbers put in front of him. Five minutes, and the two little dots began blinking down the seconds. Three hundred seconds. It didn't seem like much. He would try, he knew. It it was for this man, then he would do anything and try anything, as he knew no other truths than that. And perhaps, the gods would be merciful and he would not fail this day, but how the flames in his veins had consumed him, and five minutes would surely feel like eternity. 

* * *

 

He was right, he thought in between lucid haze between the waves. Time moved slowly here. There's still a good two minutes remaining, and he was holding by a thread. His breathed fast and shallow some times, then deep long breaths at other times. His muscles screamed and the once-cool metal down his cock was now something hot that hoped to brand him from within.  

"I said to you I wouldn't touch you," his Master's voice cut through his musing. He had forgotten his Master's presence, intent as he was, watching the dependable ticking down of the seconds that helped him manage his fevered mind. His Master had indeed told him that he wouldn't touch him, knowing that his touch would only inflame his desires more. 

He struggled to find words that would be a good reply, but failed. He squinted at the clock and could've sworn that only five seconds had passed. 

"But I didn't say that I would make it easy for you, did I?" Hephaistion had only a little time to process what he was told and he needn't even had to think as the vibrator in his arse turned up like a jolt of electricity. He was suddenly so very aware of it. When before it was like a presence he had learned to tolerate, now it was buzzing insistently, making it almost the center of everything he knew. 

He felt it sending cruel fingers of desire through him, felt his Master's cum churning in him, in his bowels with every vibration of the egg. 

A ghosting of a finger along his cock sent him arching up off the ground, twisting the rug beneath him, and tearing his gaze away from the steady dispassionate clock. "Look at me," came a soft insistent voice, and he saw his Master standing above him, feet planted both sides of his waist like a rebuilt Colossus of Rhodes, proud cock in hand, pumping languidly. His body betrayed him and his hips pump into the air in time with his Master's hand movements.

Those hands mesmerized him, and put him under their spell, much like the rest of Alexander. He was broken off his musing again when he felt the shadow of strong thighs framing his neck and head. He could scent rather than see Alexander's leaking cock close to his face. And he could tell rather than hear anything that his Master might say. 

"Keep your head straight," came the order, which he obeyed through his actions, eyes fever bright with desire. "Can you see the clock from here, still?"

The ticking was visible from his peripheral vision, but he doubted he could see much else. Perhaps he nodded, or perhaps it was his body convulsing. 

"One minute more," the voice soothed, though he doubted he could. "One minute more," the voice repeated, firmly, "And then you will come on the dot. Not a moment before, and not a moment after." 

Somehow he realized fingers releasing his deathgrip of the rug. "You may touch yourself if you want." Those fingers placed his hand just beyond his cock, on the tangle of pubic hair where he could feel his own skin rippling like an alien thing to him. 

Alexander's voice, Alexander's scent, Alexander's heat, his own wants and needs, waves crashing within him, maelstrom coursing through him. Wrapping his hand tentatively around his own cock he realized that somewhere in his confusion his penile plug had been removed. He tightened his grip around the base, as he sought to find time's steady red blinks. He needed answers to questions he didn't even know. 

"Ten seconds, dear heart." The buzzing in his arse grew more insistent. He could feel Alexander's cum churning in his body, but he also felt Alexander's passion dripping on his chin, splashed on the edge of his lip, on the column of his neck. He pumped himself like a man possessed, arching his body but Alexander's skin was always just out of his reach. 

He was overwhelmed by Alexander's presence but which was also denied to him. He cried out in frustration, sadness and elation both, with all of his emotions pouring out of him like monsoon's thunderstorms, and perhaps a prayer tumbled out from his mouth, but maybe it was a curse. Perhaps he had gone blind and deaf and mute and paralyzed, because he felt nothing outside his own head. He could not make out the red numbers now. He wondered whether he had missed it or made it, he could not see or feel or hear Alexander, he could not even feel himself. 

Had he even spent himself, or was he finally broken? He didn't realize before how his greatest fear. Of being broken and cast aside. He thought he had let out a sob. But perhaps it was his last breath. He wanted to ask but he wasn't sure he could find his voice. He wanted to move but he felt as if he had been cast in stone and marble. 

His fall to earth was abrupt. The coiled serpent that had thrashed within his belly had somehow released itself, all at once through every pore of his existence. It was swift thing that took the last of his breath away. 

 

* * *

When he woke up next, it was to the sound of snoring, loud enough to wake the dead. Or in this case, decimate the embers of Hephaistion's passion. They were supposed to be meeting Alexander's ENT specialist to have that sinus intervention this weekend, but Alexander had voted to take the long way around to Vogon so they could spend time together.  

"The long way around, eh," he chuckled. He had an inkling that he would be hearing that a lot over the next few days, and that he would bear the most of the brunt of it. He felt his dick gave a happy twitch and he laughed, not even Alexander's snoring could dampen it completely. 

He gave a Alexander's nipple a gentle flick and heard the man groan and shifted toward him in his sleep. Alexander was pierced in all the same places as Hephaestion, only that he favored rods where Hephaistion prefered rings. He noted absently that someone had cleaned him out during his hours of unconsciousness, a different plug had been inserted into his arse. He flicked one end of the rod that impaled Alexander's left nipple and laughed to himself when Alexander mumbled something like "stop it" and buried his head deeper into the Hephaistion's side. 

 

* * *

 

 

Alexander woke up to a smiling face, twinkling blue eyes, and fingers flicking mischief across his nipples.  

"You seriously have a problem."

"Me?"

"No, I take that back. You have an addiction."

Hephaistion merely hummed and looked at Alexander with the same fondness as one someone would bestow a simpleton. "Anyway," Hephaistion digressed, "Seems you couldn't even wait for me to wake before embarking on our journey?"

"Buce told me that my mother wanted to join us for breakfast before we leave, I simply moved our timetable so that we leave before breakfast. Mayhap traffic would be terrible between here and Vogsphere."

"I did hear of a multiple satellite crash somewhere in Betelgeuse, hopefully its tail would reach this star system," Hephaistion said in a way that Alexander couldn't tell whether it was true or in jest, even as he rose from their bed and made his way to the row of narrow cabinetry. One of them opened under his palm and he threw back a happy smile, "You didn't forget to pack my good suit!"

"Why you would break out your good suit for a Vogon I'll never know," Alexander replied. 

But he knew why. It was true what people said, they had since discovered, that the Vogons were not evil, just overly pompous with their brand of strange callousness and extreme bureaucracy. Hephaistion's first display was goodwill, their company's first successfully accomplished contract was proof. And after the second fulfilment of the contract the Vogons allowed them to choose how they would present themselves. Hephaistion had since then attended all the meetings in his sharp suits, and even the Vogons agreed that it made him even more appealing. He wore his chains and leathers underneath his clothes, much like Alexander wore his rods and leathers underneath his. 

This particular suit was unlike the others though, much more aggressively tailored, and in a shade shamelessly chosen to bring out the best of Hephaistion's coloring. So Hephaistion still hadn't found the best thing to counter what Jeltz wanted. 

Alexander pushed up the bed, and rolled sideways onto his belly to watch Hephaistion making his rounds in their small craft's bedroom, checking to see that all the articles of clothing were there, and all his paperwork were brought up the ship. His chains and rings trilled and tinkled merrily with every step, glinting underneath artificial light. There's a soft "oh" and a happy hum when Hephaistion found that he had remembered to pack his silent films, reels nestling between Alexander's own reading materials. There's a celluloid copy of Heemskerck's Wonders of the Ancient World engravings. He lifted the copy turned to the correct page, and grinned at Alexander's full body blush, no doubt remembering his flight of fancy as the Colossus the night before. 

Alexander groaned when his cock decided to make its presence known, thanks to vivid memories of the night just gone past. Determined, he merely ground his hips into the bed with a stern thought. Breakfast first, they needed lots of energy, which he so as much. 

Nodding to himself and giving himself a small praise for his obvious foresight, he rose from the bed, pulled on a pair of sleep pants that had gotten discarded somehow, and grabbed a box he had hid under the bed. 

His movements stilled Hephaistion's, who was trying to fish a fallen cufflink that had rolled underneath the small writing desk in the corner. Alexander thought it was deliberate, as he ran his hands across Hephaistion's perfectly presented arse, gold plug winking at him. Warm skin and muscle beneath his palm telegraphing nasty thoughts. 

"You're trying to distract me, and it's not working," he chided, patting smooth skin fondly, sliding to the small of his lover's back then guiding his lover out from under the desk and onto his heels, back to him, still. 

"It's not?" Though Alexander could only see the back of Hephaistion's head, he could see those eyebrows rise in amusement. He caught sight of the lost cuffling being rolled between Hephaistion's worried fingers, and leaned down to pluck it out of his grasp. It was one he had received during their bonding many years ago, he noted, a flood of affection warming him. 

"Not even a little," Alexander crouched behind that strong sturdy back and marveled at the play of muscles beneath the skin. Remembering the box that now nestled in his lap, he shifted a half-scoot forward, framing Hephaistion's thighs with his own, his chest flush against Hephaistion's back, broader than he had remembered, even though he had just embraced the man the night before. Hephaestion had always been taller than him, wider at the shoulders than him, and in many ways stronger than him, which made him all the more thankful for Hephaistion's trust in him and love for him. 

In his part, Hephaistion merely leaned back, somehow fitting the side of his neck to the side of Alexander's, where he could feel their two pulses marching to different drummers. But somehow, oddly soothing. He traced lazy eights on the soft cotton of Alexander's sleep pants, he remembered that it was he who bought it for Alexander. He was only about to close his eyes and revel in their closeness like a touch-starved person, when he felt Alexander's hand removing the one of the chain's fastening from his nipple ring. "No, Alexander, leave it," he whispered. 

Those fingers didn't stop, as though already anticipating the soft rebuke. Another fastening released and Hephaistion tensed within the circle of Alexander's arms. He watched as the last of the fastenings was undone and the chain slithered coldly onto the floor next to his knee. He was about to ask when he felt Alexander's hands around his cock, and despite his confusion, he felt himself harden. 

Alexander didn't have to look to see how Hephaistion's blue eyes would track his every move, so he opted for words as he worked. He slipped a steel rod into Hephaistion's urethra, and waited for the tiny whimpers to subside before beginning its exposition. "It's a bit wider, I'm sure you noticed," he said, receiving a weak slap on his forearm and a bite to the side of his neck, "but it has an opening, so you can have it all day long, piss through it when you need it, cum through it when... well, you'll find out when." Another slap and he moved to his next exposition. He pointed to the small ring on top of the rod, with a thin strip of leather attached, it's short enough to reach the ring on Hephaistion's belly button, where the leather split into two to reach each nipple. "One," Alexander said, clipping the first link to Hephaistion's navel.

"Two... and three," a caress of warm breath against Hephaistion's cheek and cool leather against his chest. 

"Four," and those thin strips of leather converge on a ring with a closed hook long enough to reach his collar. 

"Five," the end of the hook held a thicker leather lead, and a loop which Alexander slipped around his left wrist. 

Transfixed, Hephaistion did not realize that Alexander had stood up and circled him, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. When he looked up, Alexander smiled and said, "Well, I'm hungry. Aren't you?" 

 

* * *

It was a small ship, a snug space that they didn't have to go far anywhere, and wouldn't need a lot of staff to man, unlike his father's yacht or sojourn-class ship. It was a short distance away to the public area of the ship from the bedroom, which Hephaistion was thankful for. The leather strips were cut to awkward lengths, never slacking properly, but tugged at one or another every time he moved. He suspected it was a deliberate design choice on Alexander's part.  

Buce as already in the room, just about putting the bread bin on the table when they arrived. 

Because he had to pull one chair back for Alexander to settle in, Buce realized that he had let Hephaistion intercept the cushion he would've fluffed and laid for the other man. Hephaistion could be such a bullish person when it came to doing things himself, though he'd never shy away from ordering people around for Alexander's benefit. 

He watched as Hephaistion sink down on his cushions against one leg of Alexander's seat, stealing a plate of croissants all for himself. Alexander gave a token protest, but he never did like croissants anyway. 

"A communication was received from the Vogons earlier today," he said, as he poured coffee for Alexander and handed a piece of paper to Hephaistion. 

"Junior Prostetnic Vogon Constant Mown will be standing in for his father in our discussions," Hephaistion spoke as he scanned the slip of paper for news. "A mistimed demolition of a minor uninhabited planet in the Cassiopaea star system gave him more paperwork than he had thought initially."

"That's Darius's contract, isn't it?"

Hephaistion grinned around his croissant and shrugged. "He should learn not to eavesdrop next time. I didn't think it would work, but I'm glad it did."

"That's why the good suit," Alexander said, laughing. Hephaistion was banking on the hopes that where his diplomacy would fail, his carriage would be able to impress the impressionable young Vogon handling his first major account. But even if his plan hadn't fallen into place the way it did, Hephaistion was sure that a stickler like Jeltz would appreciate good tailoring anyway.

"He wanted so much to prove something to his father," Hephaistion said, waving the small sheet of paper around, illustrating his point. "Jeltz would've coached him within an inch of his life, but with luck, we might not lose too much, and perhaps if the gods are truly benevolent, we'll gain a portion of Darius's contract besides." 

The way he spoke it made the plan sounded so simple, but there's tension down the line of Hephaistion's body that was visible enough even if he were a stranger to Alexander. Luck wasn't a word Hephaistion favored, always the pragmatic Athenian that reminded Alexander of the little blue-eyed boy who had terrorized poor Aristotle with his endless "but what if..." 

"Don't worry so much," Alexander said, offering a caress to smooth out knitted brows. "We'll cross the bridge when we get there," he said, leaning down to snatch a cube of butter from Hephaistion's plate. Hephaistion's brow furrowed at the empty space on his plate, and smiled when Buce placed a fresh square of butter there before he wandered off to the driver' console with his own plate of breakfast. 

The three of them had a quiet breakfast, but Alexander could feel the air of worry around Hephaistion still, brows knitted, eyes shining with worry. 

"Don't worry so much," Alexander repeated, setting aside the plates and recapping jam jars. He liked the lemon curd, but hadn't fancied the others. Perhaps tomorrow when the mood wasn't so thick. "You've built the bridge, I'll make sure we cross it." It sounded trite and moon-cow cheesy even to his ears, and surely enough Hephaistion let out a kind of chuckle he would make when Alexander let out epithets such as this. 

Alexander stood up and brushed out non-existent lint off his sleep pants. "Now, anything else in your mind?" 

There's a subtle shift in Alexander's voice, a small change in inflection, but it called to Hephaistion's agitated soul nonetheless. He looked up and saw the unwavering spirit that had drawn him to this man so many years ago, when they were mere children and too little to understand the sort of passion they would one day share. Even then, he marveled at how such an economical frame could firmly contain both the restless wanderer and the man of bold conviction. 

He shook his head firmly and offered him a smile, hoped Alexander would not misread it. The shift in the other man's demeanor told him that he hadn't. 

"In that case, I'll need you to be quiet now," Alexander said, placing a guiding hand on the nape of Hephaistion's neck. Hephaistion bowed his head. 

This was the man that he had chosen to lead his soul.

 

**Author's Note:**

> "Every Planet Above, and Every Star" is from the poem by Gaspara Stampa.
> 
> "[Colossus of Rhodes](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Colossus_of_Rhodes.jpg)" by Maarten van Heemskerck.


End file.
